


Fortune Days

by Snevilly



Category: Legion (2010)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angels, F/M, Fallen, God is angry, POV Original Character, Religious Horror, Survival Horror, walk along, written by the seat of my pants
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-25
Updated: 2013-09-25
Packaged: 2017-12-27 14:30:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/980013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snevilly/pseuds/Snevilly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The end of the world is hard on everyone. The only thing you can do is smile and hope you have more bullets than enemies. Poe had a front row seat to watch Heaven cull it's wayward flock, but she was never the kind of woman to go without a fight.</p><p>I plan to make my way through the movie in Part 1 and then in Part 2 I want to follow Gabriel as he faces what has been wrought on the world and within himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fortune Days

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is also hosted on ff.net, but this version is the most up to date. I based a lot of this on the movie script which had a lot more humor in it than the film, though that doesn't mean it won't get angsty or spiritual at times. Its still filled with horror, bad-assery, and enough spent shells to make any red blooded gun enthusiast proud. Its a walk along style fic that will lead through the events of "Legion" in Part One and then follow Gabriel's path in Part Two. I was unsure as to how I should rate this. The movie was rated R for "strong bloody violence" and "language" so I guess this means it's a solid "M"

**Diary Entry- S. C. Poe**

**Page 1: The last day of life as we knew it.**

Do you ever get the feeling that there's just nothing left?

The funeral had left a bitter taste in my mouth. Exhaustion was a wraith that beared down on me; it made me desperately restless. I was hurtling down some God-forsaken highway in the Mojave Desert at break neck speeds and it wasn't doing a thing to sooth the edginess that jittered in my core. My Ducatti Monster, the 400 plus pound steel beast of a super bike, felt more like a shackle than a symbol of my freedom.

_How easy it would be to accelerate on this desolate patch of road. To push the bike to its limits and meet my own. To laugh harshly, bitterly, and race towards Death's greedy maw._

It had just been a quiet thought that popped in my head. It forced a growl from me and I obstinately slowed my speed to something just straining at reasonable. Fatigue and weakness must have been fucking with my threadbare emotional state. It wasn't like me to be so dark, so hopeless. I needed food. I needed sleep. I needed to stop and regroup and focus on the positive side of life beyond exhaustion and grief.

I don't regret making that supposed pit stop at  _Paradise Falls_. If you'd seen the storm brewing in the distance, those eerie, forbidding clouds that lay ahead, you'd have stopped too. Or maybe you wouldn't have. Maybe you would have traveled on, but the promise of a cold drink and some reprieve was a temptation I couldn't pass up. If I had known what was about to take place in the little diner on the edge of nowhere and fucking nowhere, I still would have walked through those damned doors, but I'd have packed a lot more bullets.

* * *

**Welcome to Paradise Falls**

If it hadn't been for the two men arguing at the pumps and the strangely out of place Escalade, Poe would have figured this place was closed. Not the run of the mill, come back during service hours kind of closed, but the decrepit and run down, time has forgotten this shit hole kind of closed. The front of the diner had several large windows, the wood had been a buttery yellow at some point in the past, but thirty years of desert grit coated it now. The harsh Mojave sun had a way of stripping the color from everyone and everything that lived in it's heat.

Attached to the Diner was a mechanics bay. Grease stains and rusty car parts littered the ground. Were it any windier, one could expect a tumbleweed to blow through. In any other circumstance Poe would have waited out the next fifty miles to get somewhere that didn't look like the last stop in a bad horror film.

The father and son stopped to stare at the sleek machine that pulled in next to the pumps. The rider was  _very_  tall and dressed head to toe in expensive biker leathers that looked ridiculous given the heat index. A black helmet obscured any glimpse of the rider's face. Bob was always in a sour mood and especially so in the middle of an argument with Jeep. He didn't have patience to deal with some vaguely threatening biker who might cause trouble. "Can I help you?" It was a tone meant to discourage any answer in the affirmative.

In a practiced movement Poe slid the helmet off and rested it over the right handle bar. Bob's eyes narrowed, the woman greeted him with a worn out smile, "I was hoping to get some gas and some grub..." He watched as her bare fingers dipped into a pocket at her hip and pulled out a bill. The scowling man eyed the portrait of Benjamin Franklin and relaxed his stance just a bit.

Leaning forward he grabbed the bill and pocketed it. "A machine like that, you'll want premium. Jeep, here, will pump it before he heads back to work. Head on inside and Charlie will take care of you." He watched the tall woman as she dismounted and grabbed her bulging saddle bags from the back, her helmet now dangling from one fist. He didn't like how far he had to look up to see her face. She was a good head taller than the thuggish man who'd pulled up in the Escalde.

"I'll just get my change from her with the receipt then," the woman covered a yawn with her hand and didn't seem to mind the mild scowl Bob shot at her. "Jeep, was it?" Her half lidded eyes turned to the younger of the two men. The one whose face hadn't been carved by bitterness and regret. "The cap is a little stubborn, make sure its on good when you're done," her sentence ended in another yawn and she waved a little before turning towards the diner.

The restaurant was a bit grungy, but had that diner charm that was popular in all the backwoodsy areas of the south. Poe had been in more than a few, but this one was just so stereotypical that she grinned when she saw the hideous color of the upholstery. They don't even make that color anymore. You have to go to the 70's to get that color. It was her least favorite shade of yellow. In one corner there was a sparsely decorated plastic tree and a faded diorama of the nativity scene. Poe had forgotten how close to Christmas it was and while normally that would have filled her with an excited thrill, she could only feel an empty sort of numbness and for that she was grateful. On the spectrum of feelings, empty numbness ranked well above what she'd been through in the last week.

Behind the counter an older black man was cooking up a storm and Poe took a moment to marvel at his one handed dexterity. His left hand had been replaced with a metal hook, the dog tags around his neck answering an unasked question. He wore a felt Santa hat and the woman couldn't help it when one side of her mouth drew back in a tired grin.

A stunning teenage girl with bottle black hair and a piercing or three was sitting at one of the far booths. Her clothes revealed her knock-out figure and didn't leave much to the imagination. She was the poster child for youthful rebellion. Poe met her curious glance, but then the younger girl's gaze was raking over one of the other customers.

Rather than focus on the girl's prey, she glanced at the couple closest to her. A suburban family who didn't look happy at all to be stuck in this particular speck on the map. The woman caught her eye and flashed a rigid smile that reminded Poe far too much of her own mother. She smiled back reflexively.

Uncomfortable, Poe looked around. There was a heavily pregnant waitress coming from the kitchen. Her name tag read  **CHARLIE**. Some people might have said she had a trailer trashy veneer, but Poe thought she was strikingly beautiful with her curly golden hair and lovely features. The woman looked up and met her gaze, "Just have a seat anywhere, I'll be with you in a moment."

Poe nodded and headed towards the bar. There was a twenty-something black man already seated. He was handsome as hell and dressed in jeans and a slightly puffy jacket. She couldn't help but smirk slightly when she realized that he was the object of the teenage girl's "special" attention. A subtle glance over her shoulder was enough to tell her that the girl's parents were aware and  _none_  to happy about it. When she past him the unique scent of banana reached her and she hid a grin at his pancake choice. She'd have to try that someday.

She didn't notice that at least one other person in the room had assessed her as thouroghly as she has assessed them. Audrey watched as the woman in leather took a seat. There were tired bruises under her eyes, but she thought the woman was rather pretty in an intimidating sort of way. She looked like the kind of person that her parent's would be wary of on sight and that made her all the more interesting to the wayward youth. Her hair had been in a messy bun, but Poe was currently shaking it loose. It fell in glossy waves to her belt and while it was clearly not the perfectly kept and split-end free hair that her mother quietly demanded, its volume was impressive. She looked like like a biker bitch who had seen some shit.

In the end, Audrey's attention was held far more easily by Kyle than Poe. And Poe had far more pressing concerns than the attention of some random teenage girl. Like food.

* * *

 

Charlie grabbed her order pad and stood in front of the new customer. "What can I get you?" Tired muddy green eyes met her along with a smirk that was worn more like a smile. Charlie managed a small one in return.

"Can I get French toast, but please make sure there's no cinnamon. I'm deathly allergic," Poe tucked a strand of hair behind her ear."

"Cinnamon, huh? That's rough. Never heard of that before," Charlie scribbled on the pad.

"Yeah, sucks this time of year. Its the spice of the season," the woman replied. When she spoke it was like a quiet murmur, but she locked eyes with Charlie and it was easy to hear her. "Can I get ham and eggs as well? Sunnyside up. And a side of hash-browns?" Charlie couldn't help, but grin at the amount of food. But then again, the woman was taller than Kyle and as she slipped out of her jacket the waitress could see the uncanny mixture of hard muscle and feminine curves. It was clear that the woman spent a lot of time hitting the weights.

The blonde scribbled the rest of the order and tucked a strand of her rebellious hair behind her ear. "Anything to drink?"

"Um..." the woman ran a careless hand through her hair, "a glass of milk with the food and a cup of water for now? No lemon." Poe grinned sheepishly at the pretty waitress in front of her. " _Please_." Poe was always polite to the people who brought her food and she always tipped well, but she made a mental note to leave a little something extra for the soon to be mother who worked on tips in a dusty place like Paradise Falls.

"No problem," Charlie nodded kindly, "I'll be back with your drink."

Poe folded her jacket and set it over her saddle bags. She stretched discretely and tried to work the travel stiffness from her body. Maybe she'd be fortunate and they'd allow her to take a quick nap in a corner booth. The thought made her smile sleepily. The grungy diner wasn't so bad after all.

Her expression faded slightly as she removed her fingerless gloves and sat them on the counter. The woman's posture was drooped forward slightly, head down, and her curtain of dark hair shielded her face from all but the cook who was too busy to really pay attention to her expression. Poe realized that what she was feeling now was a false sense of relief.  _He_  was still six feet under in some shitty cemetery and she would never be the same. Unexpected pleasantries in the middle of nowhere would never make up for that.

Resting her elbow on the counter, she held her head in her palm. The old her, the persevering sunspot in her heart, protested. Nothing would ever take  _His_  place, but finding a bit of cheer in banana scented pancakes or a Santa hat wearing cook, things like that were so deeply ingrained in her that even through her deep sorrow, it was hard not to smile. It would never be a bright smile, it was tarnished and human with pain and suffering. She had to take joy in the little things where she could find them because there was the undeniable fact that things could always be worse. Things could  _always_  get worse. The world had been showing her this for a while now.

Her sigh was one of temporary acceptance. It was deep and deliberate and she imagined she was absorbing peace and breathing out all the chaos that felt like it was trapped in her chest. It wasn't a permanent solution, but it would get her through lunch.

A sudden, jarring slap brought her back to reality and she looked to her left. The older man from outside was standing on a chair and scowling at the TV whose screen flickered in snow.

"Bob, I told you to get satellite," the cook teased. Poe could hear the tantalizing sizzle of her food. Her stomach grumbled enthusiastically.

"What the hell do I need that crap for, Percy?" Bob groused and smacked the TV again, the static snow flickered, but didn't improve.

"The History Channel, man!" Percy's easy smile provoked an instinctual grin in Poe and the cook winked at her and flipped a slice of ham. Poe felt her mouth water. If she were a less rational person she might count the ways in which she could fall in love with a cook, but she wasn't, so she counted the ways in which she loved ham.

"I got all the history I can take," Bob muttered.

"That's for sure," Charlie's sassy tone cut in as she sat Poe's water in front of her. "There you go, hun, no lemon."

Poe was about to thank her when Bob's grumpy tone interrupted, "What's your problem now?" Whack!

"Where do I start?" Charlie's retort was quick. Poe found herself distracted from the sizzling ham. The strange interactions between the two were interesting. They didn't upset her in the way arguing usually did, there was a tone of familiarity to it. Like someone who would pet a grumpy ass dog knowing it would snap and nip at their fingers, but that it probably wouldn't maul them. She'd never seen anything like it in person before.

"Okay, baby, this is gonna do it..." Bob spoke soothingly to the television and then delivered one final smack. The picture snapped into focus on the stark graphic of the Emergency Broadcasting System.

Its accompanying hollow tone filled the diner and set Poe on edge. It seemed to have the same effect on everyone as their attention snapped to the TV. The words " **THIS IS NOT A TEST** " were clear at the bottom of the screen. Poe steadied herself. Those who were prone to panic did.

**Author's Note:**

> For the descriptions of everyone, I used they key words that were in the script. Audrey was stunning. Charlie was striking. There were some really nice descriptors, but for Kyle it was "...handsome as hell. Thug style." I couldn't imagine Poe thinking "Thug style," and so I left that out. He didn't get any lines in this chapter, but he'll be more fleshed out in the next. Tyrese Gibson, who plays Kyle, stands between 5'11"-6'1" depending on your source; so Poe is clearly built a bit bigger than your average person.


End file.
